


The Cuckoo Year

by sparklight



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Genre: Animal Transformation, F/M, Fluff and Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:13:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23500630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklight/pseuds/sparklight
Summary: Zeus made Hera his radiant wife after transforming himself into a cuckoo and being "in distress" during a storm. Seduction or deception? Their youngest daughter overhears a conversation not meant for her tiny ears about how Zeus tricked his future wife. Distraught, she runs to her father to ask if it's true...
Relationships: Hera/Zeus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 54





	The Cuckoo Year

"Papa!" Hebe came bursting in wailing and practically a fountain of tears; Zeus got a bare blink of a moment to turn around and sweep her up so she didn't collide with his legs. She was six and cute as a button, though her cloud of corkscrew curls tended to escape any attempts at confinement.

"What is it? What's my big, strong daughter doing, crying like this? Are you planning on turning into a spring? Do you want to deprive your father of his favourite little girl while you turn into water, is that it?" He bounced her on his arm, already planning murder in the back of his head. Hebe hiccuped into something that with some goodwill could have been considered a watery giggle while her tears trickled to more of a distracted stream than an exploding dam.

"No! I'm not! Bu-but, Papa, how did you marry Mama?"

Thick eyebrows flew up high on Zeus forehead as he stared at his youngest, murderous thoughts screeching to a halt amidst thorough bewilderment.

"I tricked her---"

"Papaa!" Now she was crying again, and really, he _would_ be concerned about her turning into a spring at this point, except he couldn't decide whether this was thoroughly funny or terribly awkward. Mostly it was funny, but Hebe was too young to take him laughing at her with ease. Hera, of course, chose this moment to stick her head in, frowning.

"What's this, now? Why is Hebe crying, Zeus?"

"If I knew," he said with a sigh, gently bounced her again and sat down in the window; he barely fit there, but it would do. The chair was too far away, and anyway, Hera took it, sweeping into the room in a flurry of flounced skirts and sparkling gold embroidery, "she asked me how we married. My chosen words were perhaps not entirely politic."

He shrugged, and, really, while he was concerned over Hebe's hiccuping sobs, he still smirked, amused. Hera sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Hebe, sweetie, stop crying. Whatever Papa told you is probably not the least bit correct."

At least that did get their youngest to burble to a stop, sniffling as she scrubbed her face, flushed and shimmery from her tears. "S-so, he didn't trick you? He said he did! And _th-they_ said...!"

Both frowning now, Hera and Zeus exchanged a look over Hebe's head.

"Who said?" Hera's voice was frosty, though Hebe took no heed of the danger - it wasn't directed at her, anyway.

"Th-the nymphs... they were talkin' and I heard..." Another sniffle, a soft, round little hand scrubbing away a new trickle of fat tears.

" _What happened_ ," Hera said with firm emphasis as she settled more firmly into the chair and threw one leg over her knee, her hands folded in her lap while Hebe smothered her last couple sniffles against her father's broad shoulder while she practically draped her entire small body against his upper arm to throw her arms around his neck, tangling her hands in his hair, "is that I refused him. Many times."

"Three hundred," Zeus helpfully added, laughing. The sound made his chest rumble and Hebe almost smiled from how she practically vibrated with the deep, warm sound.

"You were always one for numbers," Hera scoffed, but her voice was soft, and there was a smile lurking at the corners of her mouth, before she looked back to her daughter, "he'd already had several wives before me, as well as mistresses, and I was not too impressed, or intending to give in without some proof of proper dedication."

Not that it'd been proof of loyalty, as she'd quickly learned, but this was a story for a six year old, though goddess as she was. There was time to introduce such concepts later. For now, Hera drummed her fingers against her knee, lips pursed.

"After the last time, yes, the _three hundredth_ , Zeus, I thought that I had either chased your father off for good or he might finally step up. There was a storm the next day, and over the thunder and some truly awful rain, I could hear a terrible racket."

Hebe was now breathing slow and steady, her still tear-shiny eyes wide, a thumb in her mouth.

"Hebe, take that out," Hera frowned at her until she pulled it out with a pop and a pout, causing Zeus to laugh again. She smacked his shoulder, which only deepened the laughter before he petered off, thumb rubbing one of her small knees. 

"There was a cuckoo in my garden, and it looked in a right state." Thinking about it even now, well over a century after their wedding, had Hera's expression soft. Even when she knew exactly what and who that distressed bird had been.

"Papa!? Was it Papa?" Excited instead of upset, now, even if this was definitely the very definition of 'tricking' someone, Hebe bounced a little and, unintentionally, yanked on Zeus' hair. He winced but said nothing, and Hera was torn between warm amusement and a smirk.

"Yes. Not that I knew that when I took that cuckoo back in with me, dried it up, and fed it." Hera tipped her head back to look up at the ceiling. Her veil shimmered with the shift in motion, sea silk so thin it was transparent and embroidered with unnumbered diamonds no larger than tint crumbs. "I didn't know for a Great Year."

Hera paused there, to allow Hebe to think about what she had said. Slowly, big, shimmering honey-coloured eyes widened until they were practically saucers.

"You were a bird for _nine years_?" Childish excitement and incredulity took Hebe's voice up high. Somehow, Zeus didn't flinch, despite how close she was to his ear.

"Yes and no," he said, squeezing Hebe's knees with his one hand, since his six year old little daughter wasn't broad enough _anywhere_ that he couldn't do that, "I have duties, lily-bud, and if I hadn't been around for a whole Great Year, then your mother would've figured things out sooner rather than later."

Hebe was starting to pout, and Zeus winked at her. "But I made sure to be a cuckoo every time your mama was in her rooms, for nine whole years. She didn't fi---"

"I understood _something_ was afoot towards the end," Hera cut in sharply, faintly pink-cheeked now. She didn't like to admit he'd actually managed to fool her for that long. She was far more fond of the fact that Zeus had kept up the inconvenient ruse for a whole Great Year, had let himself be coddled and fed (and yes, cooed at) like he was nothing but an actual bird. His willingness to demean himself for no immediate or even guaranteed reward had charmed her then and charmed her still, warming her heart. "And when he finally transformed back and proposed one last time, I had what I wanted, didn't I? Proof he'd been willing to put in some effort and dedication."

And in a manner that was both exceedingly Zeus and utterly unexpected, too. It hadn't been easy for him to keep up that ruse and not be found out before the whole Great Year was past, after all.

"Hebe, sweetie?" Hera frowned, looking to Hebe, who was laying there against her father very quiet still, with a most serious look on her little face.

"... So he _did_ trick you." This time, though, there was no upset but rather the dawning glee of a child understanding the prank of it, the basic function of the disguise, and completely overlooking the deeper meaning of the exercise. Zeus and Hera stared down at her for a beat, then he burst out laughing hard enough to shake both Hebe and himself, and she huffed, if reluctantly good-natured.

"Yes, Hebe, I suppose he did," Hera said with an exasperated sigh and stood up. Coming over, she bent down to kiss Hebe’s crusty, sparkling cheek and then, after giving her roaring husband the stink eye, kissed his cheek too. In time Hebe would hopefully understand the important part of the whole thing.


End file.
